


Regret

by DualWieldingCousland (DualWieldingMama)



Series: The Other Regan [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DualWieldingMama/pseuds/DualWieldingCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regan tries to deal with her decision to protect the dreadnaught.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret

“Gimme another one, Cabot,” Regan called out, near slamming her empty mug on the bar. She’d been there for hours … ever since returning from the ill-fated meeting with the Qunari liaison on the Storm Coast. Things had gone so sideways; she needed to drink … to forget … to forgive herself for all that … death. 

“You sure, Inquisitor?” the dwarf asked cautiously. By his count, she’d already had quite a few. He normally wouldn’t think of turning down someone’s coin, but … this was the person in charge. Shouldn’t she be more … sober? She was at least holding her liquor better than the last person who tried to drink more than two mugs of that swill. 

“I’m fine, Cabot,” she sighed, pointing at the mug. “I’ll stop before I can’t walk; promise.” She knew her limits, didn’t she? That one time with Bull had been a fluke. She hadn’t realized how that Qunari ale he kept plying her with would hit her. Anyway, she usually limited herself to only one or two of anything. Never mind the fact that she’d already had four or five or six since arriving in the tavern; she’d lost count. She just needed to … not think for a while.

“Last one, Inquisitor.” Cabot set the mug in front of her with a stern look. “And don’t give me any of that ‘I’m the Inquisitor’ nug-shit - my bar, my limits.” 

She did a fairly good impression of Cassandra, grunting disgustedly as she lifted the newly filled mug. Looked like she’d have to go see if someone else had a stash of liquor; maybe she could make it to Redcliff before …. No; she’d never make it out of Skyhold. She brought the mug up, eagerly awaiting the feel of alcohol cascading down her throat … and stopped. There was … something stopping her; a hand in the way. She tried again, but the hand refused to budge, this time not even letting the mug get close to her lips. Raising an eyebrow, she looked critically at the hand, then over at Cabot, then back at the hand. Pursing her lips, her gaze traveled along the tunic-clad arm, to where it met a familiar shoulder. 

“inquisitor.” 

“Dorian,” she replied just as seriously. “Your hand is preventing me from enjoying my drink.” She spoke slowly, deliberately. She didn’t want anyone accusing her of slurring her words, though she was pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to do so. “Why is your hand blocking the flow of beverage?”

Dorian smirked and carefully pried the mug from her hand. He set it as far away from her as he could before returning his attention to her. “Because you have had enough, Regan.” He took a seat next to her and frowned, taking in the poor girl’s inebriated state. “I have no idea what happened on the Storm Coast; you didn’t bring me along, after all. But neither you nor Bull are your usual selves, and I want to know why.”

He had a point; she had left him behind this trip, largely because she felt bringing a Tevinter, no matter how different he was from most, to meet with Qunari might not be the safest bet. She didn’t want to risk him getting hurt, and she wanted to give the alliance a chance. Of course, if she had known how things would have gone down …. “Didn’t bring you ‘cause I know you hate the constant rain … and the sea. Didn’t want to mess up your hair.” She shoved away from the bar and stood, wobbling for a moment until her balance returned. “I screwed up,” was the only answer she’d give him. “I … I need to go, Dorian. Thanks for checking on me. Can you … will you check on Bull, please? I have a feeling he’ll need your company more than I do right now.”

Frowning, Dorian watched her walk, almost steadily, from the tavern. He really should follow her, make sure she got wherever she was going safely. But there was Bull to consider too. He wasn’t at his usual chair; he didn’t see or hear him anywhere in the tavern. Come to think of it, none of the Chargers were around. What was going on? He decided to try checking the room Bull typically claimed as his – just outside the highest door in the tavern. If he couldn’t find him there, he’d ask Cole to see if he had any ideas. Maybe the boy knew what was going on with both his friends. He also needed to send a runner to find Cullen. Hopefully the Commander would have better luck with her. 

Regan stumbled her way into the Keep. She should just go lie down, sleep off the alcohol. But every time she closed her eyes, she saw it happen again. She just … couldn’t. Instead, she made her way to the lower level, searching out the dusty library that no one seemed to use. Once there, she rooted around behind a couple books until she found the small satchel Krem had stashed for her. She pulled it open and withdrew a needle and a ball of yarn. With a sad sigh, she flopped uncomfortably onto the floor and simply started, trying to remember what he’d told her about the first few rows. How could she have screwed up so badly?

She forced herself to focus on the yarn and needle in her hands, ignoring the tears that occasionally made their way down her cheeks. She really should check on Bull … and Krem … but seeing either of them right now would be … too hard – especially with Krem being in … such bad shape. She should have been faster, should have found a way. Why was she even in charge? She had no training, no special skills that meant she should be a leader of men. The only thing that made her special was just a damned accident, wrong place wrong time.

“Inquisitor?” 

She heard a voice echoing in the massive chamber just outside the door. It was edged with worry, concern. It was … familiar, would be welcome any other time. It was almost welcome now, but … how could she even look at him after what had happened; after what she’d caused? 

“Inquis … Regan? Please, Regan, answer me?”

The voice was getting tighter, more strained; worry evident in every syllable. Why couldn’t everyone just leave her alone? Couldn’t they see that she wasn’t good enough … strong enough … fast enough … she just wasn’t enough to lead them. She kept quiet, eyes watching the needle move through the yarn, hooking and looping and pulling. Krem had been right; it was almost relaxing – almost. 

Cullen had been all over the lower chambers searching for her. When James had delivered Dorian’s message, Cullen had simply ended the meeting he’d been in early, immediately in fact, and set out to find her. His concern grew each time he discovered she wasn’t where he’d looked. Dorian’s description of her had been so out of character for her, something serious had to have happened. The secondary library was the last place to look on this level; if she wasn’t here, he wasn’t sure where else to go. He pushed open the door, eyes adjusting to the dimmer light as they fell on her. She was hunched over, hands working on … something, expression blank. “There you are,” he whispered softly, concern etched in his face.

“Cullen.” Her voice was soft, distant, totally unlike any other time she’d said his name. She looked over at him, eyes sad and red-rimmed. She bit her lower lip and set the yarn and needle back in the satchel; she didn’t want them to get covered in dirt or spider webs. Then, before he could say anything, she shoved herself up and into his arms, nearly knocking him over. She didn’t try and stop the tears that finally broke free, streaming down her cheeks. She clung to him, sobbing with no explanation, wishing she had done things differently.

“Regan, what’s wrong?” He didn’t know what was going on, why she was so … distraught. He’d never seen her this upset, not that he could remember anyway. “Love, please … tell me what’s wrong? Did something happen with the Qunari?” He knew they had been at the Storm Coast, but the only update they’d received had simply said that the alliance had been secured and that the return trip would take a day or so longer than planned. No further details had been included. Had something …? He tried to think – everyone who had gone to meet the Ben-Hassrath liaison had been noticeably somber since returning; the ones he had seen, anyway. 

“I screwed up,” she whispered, burying her face in the collar of his surcoat. “I screwed up and people … good people are dead.” She finally let herself go, needing to talk to someone. She should talk to Bull; he’d understand. He was there; he saw it happen, followed her decision. It was her fault; he probably hated her for it. “The Chargers … they … they’re ….” She felt his arms tighten around her, his armor firm and familiar against her chest. He would have done things differently, done things right. “They’re gone; all but Krem.”

“Gone?” He was confused. Why would the Chargers be gone? Bull was still around; she’d said Krem was still here too. Where would the rest of them be? “What happened, love?” He kept her close, feeling her shoulders shake with each breath. He’d never seen her in such condition before. “Regan, please … just talk to me.”

She just let herself cry for a moment longer, trying to let herself relax in his arms. She was … safe here, wasn’t she? Would he hate her when he found out what happened? Would he push her away, leave her for losing men so valuable to the Inquisition? After what felt like an eternity, she pushed back just enough to look at him, watch his face. “Shit went sideways.” She knew he was always surprised when she cursed; apparently he thought noblewomen were far more cautious with their language. 

“We had … had to split up. Bull sent the Chargers to take one hill – the easier hill, we took the other.” Regan forced herself to remain calm while she explained. She stopped sobbing, but the tears kept finding their way down her cheeks. “Everything went according to plan until we signaled the dreadnaught. Once the ship got close, took out one of the Tevinter ships, Venatori appeared … out of nowhere. I don’t know where … when …. They … they were headed for the … the Chargers. If Bull signaled for retreat, they would destroy the dreadnaught. If Bull didn’t, there was a good chance the Chargers would die. He … he made … asked me … to … to decide what … what to ….

“I thought … I thought I could make it. Thranduil is fast; I thought we’d make it over in time. I left everyone behind, told them to … catch up, and headed for the other hill. You know … you know that noise a hart makes … like something being flayed alive, painfully?” She noticed the slow dawning of what might be wrong hit him as he nodded. Taking a breath, wishing she could stop stammering, Regan went on. “Thran did that. It echoed everywhere. Gatt – the Ben-Hassrath liaison – said that that slowed the Venatori down, a little. They heard that, the echo … all around … and had to … to … they paused to figure out what it was, if they were safe, before advancing further.”

It was getting harder to talk without whimpering. Maker’s breath, it should be easier, shouldn’t it? She’d been talking, words coming … haltingly sometimes, but coming. Speaking should be getting easier, but it wasn’t. She whimpered, burying her face in his surcoat again, fighting back the tears. She had to keep going. If she told him, maybe he could pass it on to Leliana and Josephine … so she wouldn’t have to say it again. “Almost wish the dragon showed back up. That would have slowed them down.

“The … the Venatori reached them first. I don’t … I don’t know who fell first, but … by the time Thranduil and I reached them, Stitches, Skinner, Dalish and Rocky were down. I … I tried to help Grim and Krem …. There were … were so many dead. The Chargers had man … managed to take out a lot before I’d gotten there, but they just … just kept coming. I saw Grim fall, keeping something from hitting Krem in the back. I ran over to help, but … something – an arrow, Bull said later … an arrow hit me in the leg, lost my balance. I fell … think I hit my head, Krem fell … there was more pain, maybe something broken, maybe poison … thought I was dead. But Thranduil … that stupid, wonderful hart … protected us. Not really sure how. Blackwall just said … by the time they got there … he was standing over us, swinging that rack around and kicking at anything that came close.”

“I think he deserves an extra apple, then,” Cullen murmured, burying his nose in her hair. He’d almost lost her, and he hadn’t even known. No one had told him … any of the advisors how badly things had gone. “You’re moving well for … after ….” Why hadn’t anyone thought to include that in the missive that reached Skyhold? The injury report … the casualties … he could have done something, ridden out to meet them, to help … something. 

She smiled faintly, the first real smile since … since before the signal fire was lit. “That’s why it took longer to get back … well, one of the reasons. We had no healer … Bull, Cassandra and Blackwall did their best … even Gatt … and the Qunari from the dreadnaught tried …. They stopped the bleeding, wrapped the wounds as best they could, but … Krem’s still unconscious, or he was when we got back.” She looked away, wondering if she’d made the right choice. “I should have … I should have told Bull to call them back, get them to safety. I should have said … said ‘damn the alliance’ and just …. But what if that led to the Qunari trying to invade … to avenge the dreadnaught if it sank? Maker, I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t … I didn’t … I can’t do this. I am not a leader.”

Cullen just held her to him; arm around her shoulder, the other around her waist. He could feel the anguish in each breath. He knew she’d grown close to the Chargers … closest to Krem – he was the most welcoming of the group after Bull, but even Skinner and Grim had eventually warmed to her, made her an honorary Charger. To lose them all had to hurt. But she couldn’t blame herself. This was another of those moments no one wants to be in charge for. He didn’t know what to say ... what he could say to help her through this. “You are doing a fine job. Some decisions just have no right answer.” He brought a hand up to brush his fingers through her hair. “You did what you could, what you thought was the best option. You could do no less.”

“But people died … because of me, because of choices I made.” She swallowed, bit her lower lip, whimpering. “Good people … Bull’s friends died, and it’s my fault. I put the damned Qunari ahead of our people … people we … I … liked and cared about. And Krem … Krem may still join them. Bull has to hate me. I’m sure Cassandra and Blackwall think I’m a monster. I am a monster. How can you … how can you stand there, holding me, looking at me like that … like I’m a good person?” The tears started flowing again as she brought her gaze up to look at him, watching his eyes.

“You are a good person.” He reached up, wiped the tears from her eyes. “You just got put in a bad situation. I … I cannot say for sure I would have done the same, but … but I think I would have.” He leaned in, brushed a gentle kiss against her forehead. “I probably wouldn’t have even thought about trying to reach them, as much as I hate to say.” The back of his hand brushed against her cheek. “And no one could possibly think you a monster, least of all Cassandra. And Blackwall is a Warden; they know all about sacrifice.” 

She should listen to him; she knew she should. He was right. That choice was one with no good outcomes. At least they had gotten to Krem in time, right? And they’d secured the alliance with the Qunari. “This damned alliance better be worth it,” she muttered, trying to regain her composure. If the Chargers died for nothing, she would never forgive the Venatori or the Qunari. “How’s Bull handling things? I know he said he was going to sit with Krem for a while ….”

“Dorian was going to check on him. Would you … like to go as well?” He gently traced his fingers along her cheek … jaw … arm. If there was anything he could do to help her deal with this, he would. It wasn’t the first time he wished he’d been there to help, and he was sure it wouldn’t be his last. 

“Yes, please. If … if you’ll come with me.” She sighed softly, enjoying his touch, then feeling guilty for it. Should she be feeling happy at all after everything? But, Maker, she didn’t want it to stop. “I … I … I’m kind of afraid to see him alone, right now.” When Cullen nodded, she leaned in to kiss his cheek, and pushed away. “Just let me put something away, and we’ll go.” She eased out of his arms, frowning slightly when the cool air of the room replaced the warmth that had been his arms. Grabbing the satchel, she darted over to her hiding place and tucked it away, then returned to take Cullen’s arm. “Thank you for coming to look for me, Cullen.”

“I will always come to find you, my dear.” He slid his arm around her waist, smiling as she rested her head against his shoulder. “It just … may take me a while to do so. You’re far too good at finding places to hide.” He grinned as she actually laughed; the first real laugh he’d heard since she’d returned. “And I will always enjoy finding you.” A kiss to her hair was followed by a question. “So what was that you were working on, back there?”

A faint blush colored her cheeks as she glanced back at the shelf. “Something … Krem had been teaching me. They were going to be … gifts for the Chargers, but … now, I … I think I want to give them to Bull for … memorial flags … or something.” She shrugged slightly, trying not to make too much of it. “They’re … not very good, but …. Krem also said the process helped him relax, so I was kind of hoping … it would help me?”

“Was it helping?” He smiled as she nodded, faintly. “Good. If there’s anything I can do to help, will you let me know?” Her answering kiss was promise enough, and he selfishly hoped there would be many more opportunities to help her relax.


End file.
